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Are we actually independent?

We are celebrating sixty,
Yet there are no basic amenities,
Nigeria!! In her house is where I grew up,
Everyday she worsens, I am fed up.

Actually, not that I am fed up
Loving my Nation but individuals
And their never sustaining mentality
Killing the fishes till streams are empty…

Things fall apart, and when the center holds
They personally force the head and tails
To think and act in total disunity;
So her future would turn ashes on the tray.

I am fed up on individuals and how they feel
Nonchalant, not paying utility bills
Whether things are epileptic
Or functional as they seek..

I am fed up on every individual
Who live their lifespan as bandits,
Cheats, acting like an ugly vulture
Disturbing the peace of the Nation.

I am fed up on the recycling leaders
Who take turns enriching their selves
At the expense of the masses
Who are not skipping corruption classes.

©2020 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Wonderful Vincent

Around me, there is this solace like a twilight
With intensity like the tropical Sunlight

When I am down, I believe a break of dawn
Would spring forth through the paths my faith has drawn

I believe tomorrow is as beautiful as the stars
Whether the unsaved tears never dries from my eyes

Challenges are mischievous like Satan’s storm fart
But it carves me, into a wonderful piece of art.

©2020 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Spoonful

Just like the cream,
In coffee and teas,
Rises to the top,
In the glass cup…

It is conspicuous
I got a rather die
Hovering around
And over my head.

Do not get it twisted
Behind the dark clouds
The sky is always blue
When they come through…

Like a mother hen
And a mountain gorilla
Underneath the sky
Rivers never runs dry,

Whether bedazzled or not,
It is never by chance
They prepared the ground,
Grounds on which I stand.

At times I wonder,
Why I am so blessed…
I will never bend a lip
For if I were to worship

Any mortal being,
My amazing parents
Would be whom I
Would always lift high…

Don’t get it twisted
I believe in God
And I am grateful
For a heaped spoonful.

©2020 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Hazel’s Diary: 7 months old

Upon every new dawn
You seem to become more fun…

Growing so swiftly in strength
And good healthiness as well…

In all forms and dimensions
I can possibly mention…

Seriously your wonder
Often makes me to ponder

How charming you are in jeans
While dressed up in my genes

As you clock seven months old
May your blessings not miss road…

My sweet beautiful love bug
My love is more than mere hugs.

(c) 2020 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Beautiful Zombies

In two shakes of a dog’s tail
The weather changes, so they say
With raindrops that are rubied
Rolling from bunch of zombies

Staggering down in the street
Possessing all that they meet
Conspiracies all sprung up
As a norm we all adopt.

Decent ones in the city
Soon became filthy dirty
Devils and trolls we hired
Became woods in our fire

The blacks and whites not like us
We destroy with sticks and rods
When the infants starts to creep
We shoot them right from our hips

Yet with our scary wild eyes
We still hunt the tranquil ice
And not until we change our views
The zombies are all but good.

(C) 2020 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Hazel’s Diary: 6 Months old

6 months old Hazel

From blown balloon to neonate
She has made me a proud dad…

Today is the yesterday
Half a year ago she was born.

Amazing, soon comes the spoon
Picking solids outside breast milk.

Even as time transforms her
In my eyes, she remains neonate

Giggling in memories
Where I guild her while she crawls.

Six months, I still water her
Watching her shine and flourish

Praying she bloom and rule
For Dad loves her, forevermore.

©2020 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Hazel’s Diary: Five Months gone

Sweet Hazel
Daddy’s first girl

Precious heart
God’s perfect art

Greased with oil
Made to allure.

Achilles’s heel
You are to me

Give me five!
Well done my child.

As you crawl
To penny drops

Learn more tricks
Each time you blink…

Five months are gone
Since you were born

You still rock
In all your socks…

Still giggling
And still sucking

Keep growing
And keep glowing

Dad loves you more
Forevermore.

©2020 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Running from foreigners and our politicians.

In the eyes of the world, we are so weak
Residing in a home where the roof leaks
Quenching taste with droplets from the ceilings
Instead of walking straight down to the stream.

In the eyes of the world, we are stupid
To dwell in the Nations of growth impedes
Whose flowers may never come into bloom
Residing in this very crooked home.

In the eyes of the world, they have it all
To unlock and walk through front and back doors
Making us turn to green around the gills
By mischiefs of experimental pills…

In the eyes of the world, we should break up
But we decided to stay away from storm in teacups
That has subdued us into cats caught tongues
And made us dead in the souls we belong.

©2020 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Discovery at Adulthood

We were not poor, we were not rich
We never had a net without a fish
Neither did we have the heaviest box
But what mum prepared satisfied us.

I saw my parents as the world’s richest
For, everyday seem to be harvest
We had not the sharpest tool in shed
But we made memories that never fades.

I was never the sharp knife in drawer
But they inspired me to go on further
All along I felt my dad could buy a jet
And it all a wind chase for many years.

My parents hid the real world from me
They provided all of my dare needs
And never did their struggling face show
Or things they went through so I can glow.

©2020 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

My first two heartbreaks

My first heartbreak came from my father
Who made me wear my bib and tucker
After promising to take me to the end
Only to dodge and drive me round the bend..

My second heartbreak came from my mother
Pressing my wounds with boiling water
I was broken underneath her armpits
I thought she promised not to press it.

But these heartbreaks prepared me for the world
It opened my eyes to see beguiling odds
And how they cloud the gullible brain
Hence, I trust not all calling me sweet names.

©2020 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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